Rivalry
by Aggression
Summary: A set of hockey based one-shots/drabbles. Pretty much will always involve Canada. All will be based off true events so if you ask nicely I might take a request or two.
1. Nick of Time

**Author's Note-*looks as she pushes Pandemonium Crusade down the line once again* Blame the plot bunnies~ This one hopped into my head when I was reading someone else's fic actually. And I'd totally name it except for the fact that I forgot which one it was. T_T I fail I know. So this is going to be a series of hockey drabbles/one-shots. Pretty much expect them all to have Canada in them…winning. 8DDD Though, of course, I do have an idea for a Flames/Oilers one, so I'm planning out a Calgary and an Edmonton OC. Any suggestions you guys wanna throw at me? Also I've enabled anonymous reviews! **

**Nick of Time**

Sure, they were in a world meeting right now, but like that mattered. France, England, and America were all arguing anyways, leaving two nations going unnoticed in front of a television. Which was a miracle in itself, considering all of the racket they were making.

"Come on! Tie it up! _Merde_!" The blonde hollered at the screen shaking, his fist in the air. The usually invisible nation was red in the face; time spent yelling at the TV and yelling a certain Russian leaving him breathless.

"Well, Comrade Matvey, looks like this game is going to be mine da?" The Russian smiled, his child-like features carrying a menacing aura as he watched the Canadian sweat. There was less than two minutes left in the game and the winner would continue on to the gold medal match against Sweden. Their game had been previous to this one, with the Swedes beating Slovakia 5-3.

"Oh hell no! Just wait! My team's gonna come back and kick your team's _deierre!" _Matthew was now standing, pointing a finger at a "kolkolkoling" Russia. It was at this time that other nations began to notice the two rivals, pretty much all of them except Alfred and Francis wondering who the enraged blonde was. Canada had a streak going on this, he couldn't just _lose_.

With an exasperated Germany stood up, running his hand through his hair. He glared daggers at the trio of squabbling countries he had just broken up before looking towards the corner of the room that the TV occupied. "HEY! This is a world meeting so pay atten-"

The extremely loud German was cut off by the even louder sound of a shrieking, hollering Canadian. "_Oh mon Dieu!" _He did! Ahahahaha! Five seconds left on the clock and they SCORE! HELL YES! Woot!" Matthew turned around, hugging a shocked Prussia that had been coming up behind him to shut him up. No one went and disturb on of his awesome naps and got away with it. He twirled the large man around the promptly dropped him on the ground. "We're not out of this game yet!" yelled the Canadian; a smug looked sent right towards to glowering Russian, who only grunted in response. "It's still not over yet, Comrade." The last word squirmed out, coated in venom.

Now, most nations at this moment would've been scared shitless, but Matthew returned the Russian a haughty grin. He took a sip of the beer he'd managed not to spill during this ordeal, because you know what? Canadians do not. Spill. Beer. And of course he wasn't watching this game without on. The Russian himself was nursing a bottle vodka. The other nations couldn't help but realize how much the two Northern nations had gotten away with this meeting.

Ludwig moved forward, intending to end what he thought was foolishness and not pure patriotic pride mixed in with a long-lasting rivalry. Right before his and managed to the power button, it was roughly grabbed by Ivan. He jerked the man back, impatient for the overtime to start. He swore at the German in Russian, adding in a death threat here and there for if he tried to touch the TV again.

"Hey Ludwig, I wouldn't try that again if I were you. That's like signing a death wish." The American chuckled, pulling up a seat alongside his twin. Sure he was still bitter about his team losing the quarterfinals, but that didn't mean he wouldn't cheer on his little brother (especially if it meant going against that Commie bastard).

Soon the whole meeting had turned into everyone drinking beer and waiting for over time to start. Most of the support was on Canada's side, but Russia still had some support from the likes of his sisters and the Baltics. Overtime was tense, neither team managing to score on the other.

"Oh crap, shootouts." The words left Alfred's mouth as he turned to look at the two cold nations, both looking ready to snap the other in half. This was the most important tournament in the two countries' rivalry. Hell, it was so big they were practically the reason why fighting wasn't allowed in the IIHF.

Everyone's attention was turned to the screen, even the countries that didn't even care about hockey were memorized by the air of competition that had ensnared the room. Canada was taking the first shot. Jordan Eberle, the one that had gotten them to this point in the game was at the line.

He started his skate. Once he got close enough the Russian goalie's stick came out and he gracefully maneuvered the puck around it. A quick back-hand got the shot in. Canada shouted while all of the other countries moved away from Russia, whose dark aura had expanded, but seemingly had no effect on the Canadian.

The Russian player took his shot net; he had a great control coming down the ice. Too bad for him, he hit the post. Everyone but Matthew once again continued to move away from Ivan. "Tavares is up next." Matthew said quietly, but it didn't stop excitement from leaking into his voice.

Number 19 made his made along the ice, shooting it in on the same side as Eberle, but this time it was a left handed shot. Matthew jumped up ecstatic. "One more miss and I win Ivan," he said with a sneer on his lips. The Russian man's child-like smile flashed across his face as he automatically reached for his pipe.

The second Russian shooter quickly made his way down the ice, going faster than all of the others. His shot bounced of the pads of the Canadian goalie. The younger blonde roared with excitement. "HELL YES! TAKE THAT BITCHES!" Needless to say he left most of the countries in the room shocked at his outburst. Though, they were more shocked way he continued to taunt Ivan (Gilbert himself was honestly turned on.) The day was finished off with Sweden being more than alittle intimidated by the Canadian and wondering what the hell was going to happen two days from now when his team would face the Canadians in the gold medal match.

**AN- Sorry that I only put in two names, I'm currently to lazy to look up the names of the Russians and the goalie I'm also to lazy to read over it at the moment, so there'll be a lot of mistakes XDDDD**


	2. Rivalry Reborn

**Rivalry Reborn**

The man smiled joyfully, an uncharacteristic white ball cap resting upon his head. The word "Champions" along with the date "2011" was clearly visible. Ivan was quite happy with his souvenir from the latest tournament. Needless to say little Latvia was scared shitless when he passed the humming Russia in the hallway.

The bear of a man threw open the doors to the conference room. Everyone was talking (or arguing) amongst themselves, waiting for the meeting to start. A couple seconds after the sadist's arrival a noticeable decrease in temperature encased the room. Warmer nations quivered as shivers racketed through their bodies while some of the nations that could face colder weather felt discomfort enter their flesh.

Russia himself grew surprised. He took pride in being able to handle the extreme cold, but this was fazing him. The icy air seemed to target him directly, penetrating down into his bones. He immediately found himself wishing for a warm fire and vodka to heat up his insides. Or even a pair of mitts to keep the receding feeling in his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Germany tensing greatly, as if this phenomenon reminded him of a past memory. Other's like the Netherland seemed somewhat comfortable around it, as if it ghosted over them but still made itself present.

Silent footsteps brought a man before him. The usually invisible nation stood tall and aggressively, the prominent slouch and forgiving demeanor gone. His violet eyes glared up at the Russian's hat, as if he wanted to rip it off of the man's head and tear it into shreds then burn the pieces. The blonde's cool gaze slithered down to Russia's face and Ivan couldn't help but wonder if the other Northerly nation was imagining bludgeoning him with a hockey stick at that very moment.

"Russia." The name came out low, Canada's grimace of a smile tainting his usually innocent face.

"Ah, Comrade Matvey!" Russia replied with his ever-present child-like façade gracing his features. "That was a good game da? It sure kept me entertained!"

The Canadian's response came through clenched teeth. "…Yes. It seems your hockey programs and such aren't as bad off as they appear, though they're still nothing compared to mine." A smirk rapidly appeared for a second, and then vanished as quickly as it came. "My coach made the mistake of allowing the team to go on the defensive in the last period; your quarter- and semi-final games should've exemplified that was what _not_ to do. Though if some of those missed penalties against you had been called it might've a different story." That sentence was spoken under his breath.

Ivan seemed to twitch at this comment, the happy smile falling from his face for a second. It was quickly replaced as he continued the conversation. "Hmmm…Comrade Matvey didn't have any luck with the refs this tourney did he? Kassian got suspended on what was actually a good hit, other than the fact that it was a little bit late. You got that penalty when one of the dolts on America's teamed decided to beat up on their own goalie. And in the same game there's no call when one of your own players is on the receiving end of a head shot." He smiled down at the glowering Canadian. "But what makes you think that would've made a difference against my boys?"

"My team did have one of the best power plays this time around, and your team was at the bottom for penalty kills." Russia almost strangled Canada then and there. The Canadian haughtily smiled at his small victory.

Ivan quickly regained his composure. "Next year will be fun da? Especially when I take the gold again on your home soil."

Matthew advanced on the Russian, using his surprising height to bring them face to face. His mouth curved into a smile akin to Russia's, seemly mocking the man where he stood. The cute look only covered half of his face though, the other darkened by silted eyes that threw daggers. "Listen here you stumbling bear, you got lucky this time around but next year my boys are going to pound yours so hard into the boards they're gonna need an ice scrapper to take them off. Hockey is _my_ sport, and I'll make sure that sticks in your over-sized head. My country still leads in overall golds, and I'll make sure to keep it that way. Not you or America, or even Sweden is going to take that from me. Got that eh?"

Canada remained centimeters from Russia's face, his eyes now closed as his grin had grown wide; a condescending tilt to his head. Russia was shocked at the sudden outburst; not acting until his familiar chant of "kolkolkol" came streaming through his mouth. "I'll look forward to it Comrade Matvey, seeing the false promises of other countries fall through always makes my day."

The cold continued to invade Ivan's core, a queasy feeling entering his stomach. Not even what General Winter did to him compared to _this_. His smile faltered as he realized the horrible cold was literally seeping from the Canadian in from of him. Those violet eyes hardened to ice and seemed to reflect the tundra that the Inuit called home. Ivan couldn't understand why anyone would live _there. _

Ivan snapped from his wandering thoughts as a chuckle arose from Matthew's throat. The threat that radiated from the Russian in a palpable dark aura apparently coasted of the silver-winning nation. "You're always more entertaining than Alfred Ivan. I can't wait to see that smirked wiped off your face and my own hat on top of my head." With a pivot the peace-keeper left, the wretched cold retreating to him. Russia didn't have a chance to reply, Canada has already made his way to his seat beside America.

Ivan laughed as he noticed America flinch away from his brother. His team had definitely not been prepared for the furiousness of the Canadians. It appeared that escaping the Pool of Death hadn't been entirely helpful to him after all. His team had been mercilessly pounded into the boards, unlike the games of the round-robin round before.

As he walked to his seat he actually became happier with the encounter. The bear knew that he was reclaiming his spot as The Great White North's main rival, taking it back from that sniveling American who had been ensnaring the Canadian's time for the last couple of years. The gold medal was a cherry on top for him as the world's great hockey rivalry was reborn. One built on the blood, sweat, and tears of two nations that spit venom at each other when out on the ice, their rivalry bringing both of their people's together in two opposing forces.

**Author's Note- Oh dear fucking god what the hell was that frickin loss? Dx I freakin died inside. My soul's like laying the ground in shreds. /over-dramatic**

**Anyhoo~ This is obviously about the 2011 World Juniors gold medal game, Russia won 5-3. Oh and just to let you know last chapter was about the 2009 World Juniors semi-final game. Canada won gold that year. I hope to god we get tickets for next year. THAT'D FUCKING MAKE MY LIFE EH! **

**And so would reviews~ *points to that pitiful number* x3**


	3. Return

**Return**

It simply put it, he was ecstatic.

He'd been in his office, filling out paperwork the P.M. had given him at a very slow place. Procrastination is a beautiful thing after all. At this particular moment he was zoned out. The ceiling at that moment had been a very interesting item to look at. It was _far _more interesting than that pesky paperwork. Why couldn't it go away?

In all honesty, at first he thought it was gas.

The feeling started in his abdomen, slowly growing until it couldn't be ignored. He tried shifting and squirming, but the feeling wouldn't go away. It got a little better as soon as he got up and moved around, letting restless energy out as he paced around the room. But it soon returned at full force.

That's when he realized it wasn't gas.

With that he began to become nervous. The blonde bit at his pen, clicking entering the room over and over as he pushed the switch on it in and out. His pacing increased as he wondered what could be going on. Quebec wasn't acting up again was he?

The Nation of Canada flopped into his chair, trying to calm himself down as he took deep breaths. It wasn't Quebec, that was for sure. Whenever that part of the country was antsy he'd always had the urge to start swearing in French. Maybe somewhere out West then? Alberta perhaps?

No, that wasn't it. The buzz was coming from out West, but not that far out West. Though, Alberta seemed to be adding to the feeling slightly.

He sat there for a moment, analyzing the feeling. After a few moments, he came to the conclusion that none of his Provinces were displeased. They all seemed happily attached to him, well, as happily as they could be (Quebec was always a little grumpy). He sat there, twirling the pen in his hand as he returned to staring at the ceiling. No, this feeling was one of excitement. And Jesus, it was spreading through out the _whole_ _country__._

He pinpointed the main source to be Manitoba. Winnipeg to be exact. He stopped twirling the pen. _Now, why would..._

Canada quickly sat up in the chair he'd been slouching in, hands gripping the armrests as he looked for the remote. Once the device had been spotted, the Canadian lunged for it, thankful that the TV. had been on the news channel the last time he'd shut it off. He'd glanced at the headline, needing nothing more to send him into shouts of joys.

"FUCK YES!" The man literally jumped up and down, shaking with glee until there was a knock at the door. His motions stilled as he turned towards it, hand still clutching the remote. The knocking resumed, and Canada had the mind to open the door this time.

In front of him stood the Prime Minister, who had a questioning look on his face. "Would that be the sound of paperwork being done?"

Normally, Canada would have apologized and returned to work, but this wasn't a normal day. Instead, he grabbed his boss, pointing to the TV. and babbling excitedly. "Look, look! They're coming back!"

The P.M. regarded the new casts, a grin breaking out on his face as he learned of the source of the Canadian's behaviour. The NHL was returning to Winnipeg. He laughed, before patting Canada on the back. "Looks like I'll give you the day off then. You won't be able to get any work done anyways. No drinking and driving, eh."

Canada thanked his boss before making his way to his desk to call Manitoba. This was definitely the time to party. He wouldn't have been surprised if Alberta and Saskatchewan were already on their way to celebrate with their brother, the Prairie Provinces were a tight knit bunch after all.

He was half through Manitoba's cell number when the newscaster caught his attention again.

"_There is a possibility that the Winnipeg team will in fact _not_ be called the Winnipeg Jets..."_

Canada froze.

Oh _hell_ no. That was not going to fly.

**Author's note- It may be quick and shitty, but this needed to be done. And damn they better call them the Jets. Frick, I'm an Oil fan and I'd still be disappointed if they aren't the Jets.**

**Like I said, quick and shitty, I did this after supper today xDDDD**


End file.
